The rustle of parchment,
Its old mildewed scent.
What secrets do you hide,I ask,
It replies: peruse me,and you shall know what I mask...
Read between the lines, it condescends,
Notice the crooked curve, the benign bend of every lissome letter,wounding word and snaky sentence,
And tell me what do you see?
Honestly,I demurred and baulked at this challenge hurled at me.
These were the words that adorned its face,
Written in a handsome handwriting and with utmost garnished grace:
"It wasn't easy to relinquish,
What could be achieved by me,and a pen's swish,
Had now been grasped in a vise-like grip,
By the new age gadgets,
Can't you see the drops of tears and blood that from me, drip?"
"For aeons,I was the chosen mode of expression,
I was embellished with alliteration and the most felicitous of puns,
But I was knocked off my lofty perch,
Due to man's unwavering search."
"And so,I spend my end-days,
Buried alive in a metaphoric dilapidated sepulchre, far away from man's gaze,
Ignored and ceaselessly snubbed,drenched in ignominy,
How did this come to pass,how could this be?"
And thus,I took a vow,
The story of the parchment recited during the aforementioned powwow,
I would propagate,and spread,
And revive the parchment from the living dead.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Aden Grey Poetry Contest
PoesíaSo Aden, for those who didn't know him, loved poetry. He was the one to get me into it. The first poem I ever wrote was for him, about him. This is something I meant to do a while ago but I kept avoiding painful memories. This is a poetry contest of...
